


TF G1: White and green peace

by Kurotsuki_no_hana



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Christmas Party, Christmas Tree, Decorating, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 20:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11448348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurotsuki_no_hana/pseuds/Kurotsuki_no_hana
Summary: He was different from the others, but at the end of the day he was still one of them. Now if someone would tell him how they managed it ...





	TF G1: White and green peace

Golden optics looked skeptically at the scene happening in front of him, his processor not quite registering what he was seeing. To be sure he recalibrated his optics, but when it didn’t change anything he had to resolve himself; he wasn’t imagining it. He took in the mechs running and mingling around, each one holding colorful ornaments to be install on the raison of such excitement. Puzzled by such strangeness he turned to the green mech accompanying him, and nearly recoiled at the sheer joy in the other’s optics. He almost had stars shining in them as he, too, took in the joyful mood permeating the room. He didn’t want to ask – a little weary of the response he would get – but squashed his hesitations and did nonetheless, “What it this?”

If he thought his friend couldn’t look any happier he had to reconsider it, because the large grin that stretched his face plate as he turned to him told him that yes, he could. “Come on, Mirage! You can’t tell me you hadn’t heard about Christmas!”

Yes, he had heard about the holiday. It was indeed hard to miss hearing about it when their human friends won’t stop talking about it every time they are visiting the Ark. 

Which happen to be nearly every day. 

“I know about it.” He drawled with a slight frown. “What I want to know is how this happened?” He asked again, this time even pointing at said “this” with a black polished finger. The large tree – and large it was, because it came just a few inches short to touching the ceiling of the Ark – was displayed in the center of the Rec-room, the tables and chairs having been moved to the sides while mechs were prancing around to decorate it. This would have been a comic visual, had he not been wondering how the others had managed to even drag it inside the room without Red Alert screaming murder.

Hound shrugged, fingers itching to go and partake in the decoration of the tree. “Don’t know. Maybe Optimus would know? Or Bluestreak, since he was on security duty last night.” He hold out his servo expectantly, “Now come on, before there is nothing left!”

Mirage looked uncertainly down at the outstretched servo. He wanted to take it but … well, he was not really the most liked bot in the crew, and he wasn’t sure how his presence would be taken. He turned his optics back toward the tree to see Sunstreaker arguing with a peeved Cliffjumper, whom he saw was holding a light green garland in his arms, the yellow mech holding out a dark red one to the mini bot. It was rapidly escalating, the two becoming louder with each passing seconds, but suddenly Jazz appeared and took the two fuzzy garlands with a laugh, before dancing around the tree with them and placing them as he went. He quirked his lips as the two affronted mechs went to purchase the TIC around the room, only stopping the merry chase when Ratchet hit them both on the helm. Hard. He took in the laughing, the sheering and the festive mood. He wanted to join them, to reach this servo, but in the back of his processor doubts plagued him. Could he really? Would he be accepted? It was in these moments that he missed being on Cybertron, amid his family and the others nobilities from the Towers. There his life had been so much easier.

He stopped a flinch as his left servo was taken and looked at Hound, the mech smiling softly at him and tugging slightly. “Come on.” He spoke, leading them toward the crates disseminated a little everywhere near the building crowd. His friend immediately started to rummage through one, servo soon leaving it with a translucent bulb covered with snowflakes made of white glitter. He watched him slowly move around the pine tree, optics moving here and there to find a good spot. 

“Hey ‘Rage, catch!” 

Reflex had him shooting his arms up, but even so he got a face-plate full of golden garland, the fuzzy thing tickling his olfactory sensors. Taking it off of his helm he glared at a smirking Jazz, the saboteur giving him a thumb up before going to pester someone else (the poor bot in question being Prowl, who had just entered the Rec-room for his morning ration. May his sanity rest in peace) He glanced at the garland resting innocently in his servos. Golden. The color of the nobles. His optics color. Hound had once told him he liked his optics, and that it was not the color that defined who you are, but your actions. 

Deep down, he knew it was true, but sometime he couldn’t help wondering if what they were doing was right. They already lost their home planet, leaving it almost in ruins, and now they were doing the same thing to this one. The others could call him a traitor all they wanted, but weren’t they all one at least a little? 

Glancing up at the gathering, he couldn’t help but smile internally, and then really smile, albeit shyly, when Hound called him, beaming, telling him he found a good spot for the garland he was holding.  
A slight shock on the back of his knee made him stumble a little, and his optics followed the red mini-bot who just shoved him as he passed. Blue optics, always accompanied by a frown, shot him a look as he passed, “Move it, Tower bot. That tree won’t decorate itself.” and continued on without a backward glance. His lips twitched. Well, if Cliffjumper of all mechs was giving him the Ok …

He started toward his friend, and if his first steps faltered a little, the nature-lover didn’t comment on it, his smile never leaving his face. And maybe, just this once, he could forget the past and concentrate on the present, he mused, his own smile becoming more prominent as he reach the other, holding him one end of the golden garland. He will enjoy the day, enjoy the peace, enjoy the laughs and the smiles, and concentrate on building a future where all his doubts didn’t matter. 

Because here and there, this was his family, and family stay together through thick and thin.


End file.
